Thanking her for the coffee and the understanding, I examined a few phone messages. Most were from members of the media. I balled them up and tossed them in the garbage. “I plan to read an entire manuscript by lunchtime,” I said to Vicky. “It was rewarding to help the police, but I belong here.” I booted up my computer and was pleased to find T. J. West’s manuscript waiting in my email inbox. I opened the file and hit the print button. Pointing at the document pages that quickly began to pile up in my printer tray, I said, “This is what fulfills me. And I’ve been distracted from my work for too long.”
Vicky, who’d probably never been diverted from a task her entire life, nodded in approval. “I’ll see to it that no one disturbs you. We have a staff meeting at one, and Bentley was very clear that no one was to eat lunch before that time.”
A little perplexed by my boss’s order, I grinned at Vicky and promised not to sneak to Catcher in the Rye for a sandwich or have a large pepperoni pizza delivered on the sly. Then I settled down at my desk, read through a dozen emails, and picked up T. J. West’s manuscript. Seven chapters later I sighed with contentment. Not only did I love the book, but West’s charming characters and bucolic setting had also allowed me to put aside all thoughts of Justyn or Jasper. I sipped my latte, read, and welcomed the feeling that I had made it through a dark and ugly time and could look forward to a calm, peaceful winter.
West’s book concluded with a festive Thanksgiving scene, and I realized that I’d soon be celebrating the same holiday in my new home. While pulling up West’s contact information on my computer, I imagined the people I hoped to see at my table. Trey, my mother, Sean, Makayla, and Iris, too. Just picturing their faces as I entered the dining room carrying a behemoth turkey made my heart flood with warmth. I dialed West’s number to offer him representation and knew that I had much to be thankful for.
“LILA!” ZACH BURST into my office seconds after I’d finished talking to an ecstatic T. J. West aka Thomas Jefferson Wipple.
“Do you have a low-key setting, Zach?” I teased. “You’re always so revved up.”
Zach looked confused by the question. “Why wouldn’t I be? I have the coolest job ever, I’m single, I’m good-looking, and women find me irresistible!”
“Must be that incredible modesty that draws them to you.” I laughed. “Are you here to make sure I’m not late for the meeting?”
He flopped into the chair on the other side of my desk. “Guess again! Actually, don’t guess. We don’t have time for that. I wanted to tell you that not one, not two, but three studios are bidding on the rights to the first book in Calliope’s new series. I fielded the calls this morning. I hope that’s okay, seeing as she’s your client.”
My mouth hung open. I’d only been a literary agent for a couple of months and I’d never dreamed that someone I represented might have their work turned into a movie or television show.
“I’m glad you did. After all, aren’t you Mr. Hollywood?”
Zach puffed out his chest importantly. “I sure am. We’ll split the commission on any sales to film studios. Lady, you might be trading in that scooter for a sweeter ride. I could see you tearing down the road in a convertible Vette. A yellow one.”
I shook my head. “That’s your style, Mr. Hollywood. I love my scooter and I’ll borrow my mother’s truck when I want to go on a long-distance drive.”
My comment piqued Zach’s interest. “And who will you be visiting? Someone special?” He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively.
“Yes,” I said, gathering a pen and notebook in preparation for the staff meeting. “My son. Come January, he’ll be a college freshman.”
Zach leapt out of his seat and waited for me to leave the room before following. “Hey! Trey could write a book about his experiences on Red Fox Mountain. I could totally sell it to a TV studio. Impressionable kid corrupted by drug-dealing hippie, et cetera, et cetera. If I had a screenplay of those events, I’d be fighting off producers with a stick. Especially since the leader escaped.”
I halted just outside the conference room. “Not a chance, Zach. Trey needs to look ahead. Maybe Jasper would like to pen an autobiography. You could stop by the jail and ask him. Franklin could be his agent and you could sell the film rights. It’s a win-win.”
Completely missing the note of sarcasm in my voice, Zach’s face lit up with enthusiasm. “You are so brilliant.” And with that, he bounded down the corridor and into Franklin’s office. Without knocking, of course.
In the conference room, everyone was already seated around the table, except Zach, who darted in behind me and plunked himself into a chair. As soon as they noticed me, the chatter in the room stopped, and as if by mutual arrangement, Franklin, Flora, and Jude jumped up and threw their arms around me.
Bentley peered over her diamond-studded glasses and smiled. “Lila, I appreciate that you’re here today, considering.”
“We are so glad you’re okay,” Flora exclaimed, enfolding me in an embrace. “We heard all about what happened over the weekend.”
“Yes, we understand you’re quite the hero,” Franklin said. “Tracking down the murderer of Melissa Plume and Tilly Smythe.”
Jude pulled out a chair. “Have a seat, milady. I believe you sustained an injury during your adventure.”